


Burning hands

by Zombieheroine



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Regret, UST, Unfulfilled Love, repressed feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4606602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombieheroine/pseuds/Zombieheroine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron's plan to put Orion Pax to good use threatens to turn on him as he is forced to deal with old feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning hands

**Author's Note:**

> This is my head-canony addition to the beginning of the season 2, written mostly because I disagree with most other interpretations I've come across. 
> 
> Whatever your take on the arch is, dear reader, I hope you'll enjoy this!

Orion Pax stood in front of a computer console, tapping away, although he barely saw the code streaming on the screen. Just getting back to work had always worked for him when he needed to sort out his thoughts, but this time it didn't seem to help. He couldn't believe he had been in stasis for eons, ever since the war broke out.

The image of a barren and lifeless Cybertron rose to his mind and he shuddered. The sight was burnt into his memory and would probably haunt him for quite a while. How could he have missed that? He should have been there, helping his home and fellow Cybertronians, working for the better future he had hoped for. Instead things had taken a horrible turn, everything had gone down the drain and dreams had turned into nightmares.

He felt the burden of guilt weighting on his shoulders and hit the keys unnecessarily hard. He might have joined the war late but would give his everything to help end it, and if his codebreaking skills were of use he would work. 

But here was something else burdening his mind, a selfish concern in the middle of the large conflict: He couldn't recall the exact moment he had been jumped and put in a stasis pod. His memory seemed to end a few days before his and Megatronus's scheduled meeting with the High Council, and even the last couple of days before that felt a bit hazy. The responsible part of his mind said he should go see a doctor about that, but then again he had been in stasis for such a long time it might as well be completely normal that sorting out recent memories would take some time. He had important work to do now, and he wouldn't sacrifice precious time to worry about something that wasn't even that serious in the first place. 

Besides, thinking about any doctor made him think about Ratchet too, and any thoughts about his dear friend were painful. Megatronus had made extra effort to sound casual when he had told Orion the bot behind the fate of Cybertron was Ratchet, and though Orion appreciated his attempt to give him space to be shocked about the news he could sense his gladiator friend was holding back a great deal of resentment. 

Orion came across a difficult patch of code and had to banish all thoughts about Ratchet for a moment. Iaconian fashion of coding and encryptions were generally a walk in the park for Orion, but every now and then little personal quirks from specific coders gave him a puzzle to crack. He had to adjust his software to sort out the particular problem, and after he returned to the routine work Ratchet was back in his thoughts again.

Since the beginning Ratchet had scoffed at Orion's concerns and thoughts about the state of Cybertronian society and encouraged him to stop digging up files that were none of his business and spreading his provocative ideas before he would get in real trouble. When Orion thought of Ratchet he thought of a conservative and peaceful bot who didn't consider protesting and causing trouble worth of changing a stable society, but who had never wished harm on anyone. 

Orion tried to imagine what had made his worrying and nurturing friend to do what he had done, but pondering on the subject only made his spark ache more so he gave up. 

But he didn't have more happier thoughts to return to either. Megatronus had announced his return to the ranks with joy yet the rest of the crew seemed awkward and antsy around him. Orion hadn't tried to make any conversation but had stopped to ask for directions on the way to the mess hall to get his fuel, and not one of the crew members had looked him straight into optic. The medic Knockout who had given him his Decepticon mark had chatted and joked but he had also done all the laughing at the jokes and Orion had gotten the feeling the mech enjoyed a little banter but didn't care either way if the other party participated.  
Orion had come to a conclusion that since the crew consisted of hardened veterans who had experienced many losses during the long war they didn't really care to chat with a fresh, green novice who had never so much as been in a proper fist fight. The thought was depressing.

The only person on the ship who had treated him with familiarity and friendliness was Megatronus. The sight of him – and now even just the thought of him – made Orion's spark jump. 

As confused and shaken as Orion was, that feeling was still the same and made him more certain about who he was. This might be a different time and a different planet but he still had the same core as he had had so long ago on Cybertron, and that was a thread that tied the rest of him and the past to the present. But due to his confusion and compromised memory files even that comfort had a little taint in it: He didn't know if he had acted on his feelings before.

Orion broke through a firewall and met yet another layer of protection on the file. He really had to wonder what the encrypter had wanted to hide so desperately, but wouldn't let that slow down his working pace.

But he really strained to know whether something had happened between him and Megatronus back on Cybertron. Last night he had been given his own cabin and in secret he had been disappointed that he didn't share one with his dear friend. When he had laid awake in his berth he had wondered if they should have, but Megatronus was just easing him into the current situation and letting the memories come back to him. 

That kind of consideration didn't sound like the straightforward and absolute Megatronus he knew, but Orion couldn't bear to simply toss the silly dream aside either. 

There was a saying that a simple word might be enough to summon a spark, and that might have been true since just as Orion was wrestling with his theories the doors slid open and Megatronus stepped inside. 

Orion turned to face his friend and nodded in a greeting. “Lord Megatron,” he acknowledged. 

Megatronus was carrying two cubes of energon and responded to Orion's greeting with a rigid jerk of his helm. “Orion,” he said, reset his vocalizer and glanced behind the smaller mech. “I see you have made progress.”

Orion glanced behind himself as well, then turned back to his friend and smiled. Megatronus averted his gaze.

“I have, yes. I'm afraid it's not much, though. The encryption is very complex and I don't have all the tools I used to when I still worked in the archives, so...”

“Nevermind that,” Megatronus interrupted him. He lifted the cubes in his servos. “I thought you might want to take a break and fuel. And... I noticed you were a bit awkward in the mess hall yesterday. So why don't you fuel with me instead?”

Orion's face lit up and a wave of relief washed over him. He had been nervous in advance about mingling with the crew, but this invitation was more than just a relief: If there was one thing he had urgently hoped for, it was some alone time with Megatronus.

“With pleasure, sure,” he answered and turned to save his progress and turn the console off. When he turned around again Megatronus was still lingering there by the door, slightly shuffling on his pedes. Orion tilted his helm a bit and felt a hopeful little tug in his spark. He strode across the room and took the other cube from Megatronus with both servos.

“Thank you. Where shall we go?”

Megatronus gestured towards the door. “Follow me.”

Orion stepped out into the corridor after Megatronus, and the older mech started to lead the way. The insides of the Decepticon vessel were not very complex but the ship was large and Orion hadn't had the time or the will to explore it enough to map it, so he depended on entirely on Megatronus's guidance. He was mentally trying to memorize the route they were taking so he could find his work station again in case his friend didn't have the time or intention to escort him back too. 

“I actually hoped you'd come to talk to me,” Orion spoke, breaking the silence. If he still read Megatronus right the glance the gladiator threw him was surprised. 

“Why so?” Megatronus asked when he had already turned to look ahead. 

“We do have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?” Orion replied, frowning to himself: He had thought it was obvious.

“Ah, of course,” Megatronus said, and they continued to walk in silence.

Orion made a note of the tone of voice his gladiator friend used to speak to him. It had been the same for the last two solar cycles but not the same one Orion recalled: Megatronus was very calm and took time to explain things to him and cared for his well-being. He hadn't given his own opinion on any information he had relayed which was strange since Orion had always considered Megatronus to be a mech of opinion and not afraid to express it. Megatronus seemed awkward and like he was holding himself back, and with a painful pang on his spark Orion wondered how much might have changed during the long eons. 

Maybe he didn't know this Megatronus anymore, and maybe his friend knew this too and was trying to spare him the shock. He didn't like that thought at all.

The Nemesis was an ascetic and function-oriented warship so there weren't many places to sit down, but in the upper levels there were a few corridors with windows and since they were sunken in the wall, with windowsills big enough, both had room to lean on it. Megatronus picked one at random and they settled down. 

Orion expected Megatronus to start a conversation, but he just sipped on his energon without meeting Orion's optics. Orion felt a rush of frustration at that and his own ignorance, and glanced out of the window to momentarily escape the situation. He couldn't see anything else except a veil of thick, deep gray clouds. 

“You have changed a lot,” Orion said before taking a long sip of energon. When he tipped his helm back to drink he saw from the corner of his optic Megatronus's helm jerking up. “Is it the war?”

Megatronus let his shoulders relax again and he turned to look out of the window too. “I suppose so. It's been... tiring, to say the least.” 

Orion nodded. He turned the cube around in his servos, stared at the wallowing mass of clouds and thought. He hadn't ever experienced war and so it would have been insensitive to suggest he understood what the other mech had been through. Megatronus had had such a hard life already. Orion thought of the murder pits and the energon shortage in the low-caste areas, and alongside them he recalled how Megatronus had more than once lectured Orion about his Iaconian privilege and lack of understanding of other ways of life. Megatronus might have had changed much but hollow words and false claims most likely wouldn't be welcomed.

“I'm sorry you have suffered so much,” Orion sighed, letting the honesty ring in his voice. “I wish I could have been there with you, to support you. It was always my intention, you know, to be by your side in this. Even if I wouldn't really understand.”

Megatronus was quiet, staring out of the window with unseeing optics. His energon was mostly untouched even though he had always been the one to highlight what a blessing fuel was before gulping it down like he was afraid someone would try to snatch it away from him. The memory wasn't exactly a good one and carried grotesque implications, but still Orion smiled. 

“I know you meant to do so,” Megatronus finally muttered. He didn't say anything more but Orion got a feeling he wasn't quite done yet. Sometimes silence itself carried a meaning, like an empty space between written words, sometimes it was a thinking break for others or Megatronus himself and he was able to project the feeling he wasn't done talking yet. Orion felt a connection between them during moments like this and secretly prided himself on his ability to understand Megatronus so well. 

“I've missed you, my friend,” Megatronus suddenly said, yanking Orion out of his own thoughts. 

The younger mech lifted his surprised gaze to the other and their optics met. He held the gaze for a while to make sure Megatronus wasn't just making a jest, and then broke into a smile.

“I'm... Glad to hear that,” he said. “I'm happy to be back. Even considering the circumstances.” 

A little half-smile briefly tugged Megatronus's mouth before he turned serious again, his optics darting to look out of the window again. The strong connection Orion had just felt warming his spark snapped and disappeared as did his smile.

“Megatron,” Orion said carefully and waited for the other to acknowledge the call with a questioning hum. “Did something... Happen?”

“Happen? What do you mean?” the other replied with a harsh undertone in his voice. 

“I mean did something happen back on Cybertron? Between... us?” Orion specified despite a frightful pulsing of his spark that really didn't want to know. There was at least a week's worth of hazy and mostly empty space in his memory, right before the scheduled meeting with the council. It had been a hectic time with high stakes, that kind of time that pushed bots to relieve secrets and seek resolution. The more Orion thought about it the more convinced he was that _something_ had transferred between them, something that he had forgotten and what Megatronus was pretending had never happened. His spark pulsed harder and filled up with anxiety. Was it something bad? Or was it something good? Something fantastic, unbelievable and incredibly wonderful?

Or had Megatronus rejected him? Had Orion read their connection and shared passion wrong? Or had he himself for some completely inconceivable reason rejected Megatronus?

Megatronus gave short sigh. “No. Nothing happened. Drink up, Orion, you have a lot of work to do.”

That sounded like a lie, an excuse and a hasty escape from the situation. Orion frowned but did as he was told and downed the rest of the cube with one go. 

“Than you for the fuel,” he said after he was done. “But I have one more question before I go.”

Megatronus chuckled, and for the briefest moment he was the same mech Orion had known. “So many questions, my friend. Well, go on. What is it?”

“You aren't in a chatty mood today so why did you seek me out in the first place?” Orion asked.

Megatronus opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He didn't have a reply ready for this one, maybe he didn't even know the actual reason. 

“I wanted to be in your company,” he finally admitted like it was something shameful. “It's been so long.”

Orion's poor spark that had been pulsing, jumping and jerking around in its chamber this whole time soared again and a strong buzz of burning heat rushed through his system like a lightning bolt, and riding that wave Orion reached out to touch Megatronus's servo with his own. 

“Then perhaps, after the work is done, we could carry on?” he suggested.

Megatronus's optics were wide open, the red of them bright and the gaze intensely focused on the younger's blue ones. He looked like he wanted to refuse, to come up with an excuse and run, but when he opened his mouth he simply said: “Yes.”

Orion's smile was like a thousand-watt light. “I'll see you later, then. I'll find my own way back to my station now, thank you.”

*

When Orion finished the work for the day and emerged from the console room, Megatron was waiting for him in the corridor. Orion looked surprised seeing him there, but in a moment the surprise changed into joy. Megatron felt his spark flop uncomfortably and he forced himself to stay stern. 

“Orion,” he greeted in a simple way he hadn't exercised in a long time. 

Orion stood still and narrowed his optics, and Megatron's spark flopped again like a beached marine creature. 

“What?” he asked.

“I wasn't sure you'd come,” Orion remarked in a curious tone that activated a long abandoned memory file in Megatron's processor. Even with the deep voice coming out of Optimus's vocalizer the speaker, the tone, the expression was all Orion, an echo from a distant past. Now that he had had eons of time to think about and analyze it Megatron could certainly pinpoint exactly what that tone was, when in the past when he had heard it the first time he didn't dare to dream or jump to conclusions. Orion was flirting.  
It was clumsy and reserved, but so terribly sweet it still worked: Megatron wanted to devour that sweetness, to press his intake against Orion's and drink it all up. 

But he controlled himself and forbade himself any answering flirtation. “Much has changed, but I still keep my word,” he simply said and gestured Orion with him. He had considered carefully where to take this ghost of his old friend and quickly had to rule out basically any public place aboard the ship and anywhere outside it as well; taking Orion outside would mean risking the Autobots locating and finding him and Megatron couldn't have his officers and crew ogling at him when he was like this – like what, he didn't care to specify, not even to himself. The only option left was his own personal quarters, and despite the implications of inviting Orion in, the privacy and possibilities to handle any commotion outweighed the cons. 

“Since you point that out your pride hasn't faltered either,” Orion commented with a smile.

Megatron swallowed thickly around a lump that had suddenly risen into his windpipe. What he felt had long surpassed simple nostalgia; Orion was simply too much. His soft confidence and gentle snark all intact took Megatron right back to Cybertron, to the dirty streets of Kaon bathed in neon lights, wandering around with his new and exciting companion. Everything had been so fresh, so bright and on the verge of a grand change and they had been summoning the storm together, both feeling young and invincible. 

That dream had evaporated eons ago and they were both – quite literally – different people now, but even though that was Optimus's frame, mouth and optics it was definitely Orion who was dwelling there, chatting and peering up to him like in the past that felt like a distant dream. 

“You think me prideful?” Megatron threw back with a quirk of an optic ridge and a faint smirk he knew would freeze a lesser bot on their tracks.

But Orion just smiled back and instead of fear his expression shifted into a playful one. “During the whole time I've known you you've never been coy about your own strengths or accomplishments, so I fail to see why you'd start now. Shun those with false humility,” he answered.

Megatron had to chuckle at that. Orion had a unique ability to taunt and banter without making it an actual argument. 

“By the way... Where are we going?” Orion suddenly changed the subject as they passed the hallway leading to the mess hall. 

“To catch up, like you wished,” Megatron replied.

“I understood that much,” Orion said, “but where exactly?”

“I... Assumed you'd appreciate some privacy, and this ship is a very communal place. Our alt forms don't match either, so I simply thought you would like to spend some time with me in my cabin.”

“Oh,” Orion said, clearly taken aback. Megatron didn't look over his shoulder to see his expression. “I didn't think a Kaonian would oppose communal spaces?”

“It's not about me,” Megatron answered. He indeed hadn't ever been particularly bothered by sharing space with others, but he did so only with bots he deemed worthy and when he didn't have anything to hide. And Orion was definitely something he wanted to hide away.

“So... It's about us?” Orion specified, and that soft charm was back. Megatron just couldn't resist it.

“Yes. It's about us.”

Orion hummed pleasantly at that, a sound Megatron had completely forgotten existed. It sent a shiver down his spinal strut. 

They walked in silence until they arrived at the cabin deck. Megatron felt restless and like he was walking himself into a trap, but Orion radiated comfort and calm like this was the most natural thing in the universe. 

The younger mech politely looked away when Megatron tapped in the key code to his cabin door, and out of an old habit Megatron let him step in first. 

Orion took slow steps around the cabin and looked around him with open curiosity, and Megatron observed him as he did so. He didn't fear his judgment or any opinions he might have, but somehow he felt uneasy anyway.  
He didn't like that at all. Megatron wasn't used to feeling nervous, restless or uneasy. Situations that made others feel like that only made him thrilled, thirsty for battle and ferocious in his actions. 

Orion turned to him and pointed at the berth. “Is is alright if I take a seat?”

Megatron hesitated for a moment, but since he hadn't gotten any other furniture in his quarters besides the berth and a lone desk with his private computer console on it he really had no choice but to nod. It wasn't that strange. He hadn't had much more back in Kaon and they had made use of it, but even though it was Orion speaking it was still Optimus standing there, his tall military frame breaking the illusion. 

Orion settled on the edge of the berth, awkward in his big frame, and watched keenly as Megatron approached it and took a seat next to him. They sat in heavy silence, unsure who would speak first, and Megatron watched his old friend from the corner of his optic as subtly as he could manage. 

“How did this happen?” Orion suddenly said, sounding puzzled. The question was general but it could be expected from a person who had missed a big chunk of his life.

“How did what happen?” Megatron asked, preparing for difficult questions. 

“The civil war. The destruction of Cybertron. The exodus,” Orion listed, staring ahead with a troubled expression on his face.  
Megatron watched that face and felt a familiar surge of superiority at the naivety of the young Iaconian, but his knowledge of a grand military leader that would hatch out of that privilege bubble downplayed his joy. 

“It was... complicated,” Megatron started, as general as Orion's opening question. “Our rebellion was not met with kindness. There were... round-ups, then riots. Terrorism and prideful leaders who didn't listen. Things escalated quickly and then just refused to settle down again.”

“Well I'm glad you didn't let terrorism bend your morals. Sometimes pride is useful,” Orion quietly said. “Even if... the cost was higher than anyone could have expected.”

Megatron felt an urge to squirm in his place but suppressed it. He found he didn't like this game at all. Actually he hated how he had to twist and lie about his own decisions and accomplishments like this so one of the few people whose admiration and approval he had cared for could look him in the optic and smile. He shouldn't have needed to do this for that, and it made him feel ill. 

“I still can't believe Ratchet would do this,” Orion sighed, and Megatron was grateful for the change of subject. “I mean... I know he didn't want to cause any trouble to anyone even if there was no other way to bring about change, but... That's it, he didn't want to hurt anyone. He is a doctor, after all.”

Megatron scoffed dismissively. “I found it to be a bit different situation. His passiveness and conservatism prompted him to act in the end, and it was against us. He wanted to preserve the old ways no matter what, regardless of the wishes of more than half of the people or the cost. Now our home is lost to us and we escaped to space in search of a safe haven and energon.”

Orion looked sorrowful, but Megatron was just glad he was swallowing the story. He knew Orion was sharp and not afraid to speak his mind or to poke holes in his narration if he just wanted to do so, but apparently his confusion about the lost time and all the things he didn't know made him unusually receptive to the reality Megatron was shaping for him. 

“I still don't... Well,” Orion muttered, staring down at his servos. “I wish I could have just talked to him, try to sort things out.”

“Well sometimes you can't and things don't work out just because you want them to,” Megatron said, voice much harsher than he thought it would be.  
Orion turned to look at him, surprise and worry in his gaze.

Before Megatron had the chance to patch the damage, Orion spoke: “I'm sorry. I think I overstepped. It is you who has fought the war all this time, after all. I didn't mean to belittle what you have gone through, my friend.”

“I... “ Megatron started but didn't find anything sensible or smooth to say. Orion's directness had had a habit of taking him by surprise from the moment they had met. Megatron turned away to avoid Orion's bright and achingly sincere optics. “It doesn't matter,” was only thing he managed to mumble. 

Orion however didn't just plain accept it like that, sensing the unease under the surface. He leaned closer and reached out with his servo.  
Megatron tensed up and balled his servos into fists when that light black servo settled on his wrist, light like a flake of dust but still, somehow, so heavy. 

“Yes, it does,” Orion firmly said and Megatron's gaze snapped back to him. “I hurt you, I can see that, and of course it matters. I've never thought your feelings or opinions didn't matter. I hope you can forgive me.”

His expression was gentle and urgent like he really needed Megatron to listen what he said and understand it too. Megatron saw that, but his attention focused on his optics instead, because there was the familiar fire he had seen there when they had just met each other, the flame of determination that had originally really caught his attention. Now in Optimus's so often dispassionate and frustratingly expressionless bright blue optics that fire was all the more satisfying, and Megatron couldn't make himself look away. His spark trembled in its chamber like it wanted to bolt out of there.  
Orion was so close, right here and for him alone. It would have been so easy to start believing in that ghost and let things resume from where they had left them millions of stellar cycles ago. He was right here, a servo on his arm, shoulder to his shoulder and leaning close, closer, reaching up... 

Megatron turned away, leaving Orion hanging. 

“Megatron? Is something wrong?” Orion asked after a moment of confused silence and leaned back away, taking the warmth with him. “I thought we – uh...”

“I told you before. Nothing happened between us,” Megatron said, trying to find his cold down-to-business tone of voice even though he couldn't bring himself to shake Orion's servo off. 

“Yes, so you did,” Orion replied, “what is preventing us now? I mean... I thought we... Isn't there... _something_?”

If they hadn't defeated Unicron just a few solar cycles ago Megatron would have been certain the Chaos Bringer's forces were influencing the situation. Who else in the known universe would be so cruel as to show these vivid images of what could have been so long ago, if he had just done something about it. Megatron was a mech who lived in the current moment instead of dwelling in the past, but during occasional lone night cycles he had for himself he had replayed memories from those neon-lighted streets and thought where exactly things had gone wrong. It was downright cruel to taunt him with what was lost. 

Megatron forced himself to look at Orion. The blazing optics, confused but determined expression and that openness he had about it made resisting the temptation so much harder. He could just reach out and take what was offered, experience what he had been denied in the past and let himself believe in this lie. He could finally let himself feel what that frame felt against his, what it was like to hold him, find out what their kiss would be like. There were so many hopes and dreams that had gone unfulfilled, and all of those mutual and right there between them, that their 'catching up' could as well be them making up for the lost time. They had the whole night cycle for themselves after all.

But the frame was different than the one in Megatron's memories, as was the bot truly occupying it, even if slumbering. In truth Orion didn't exist anymore, Orion was just a name Optimus had had in the past, and this was Optimus with him on his berth, exploring the boundaries of their relationship, wanting things and offering them. Optimus who was vulnerable and didn't really know what he was doing. Megatron felt torn and oh so tempted. 

“Much has changed during the time you were in stasis,” Megatron said, trying to shake any intrusive thoughts he had. They were very persistent, like an old container left untouched had finally rusted and spilled its contents all over. 

Orion blinked in confusion, then something seemed to dawn to him as he yanked back away from Megatron, his whole expression a picture of pure shock: “Oh! Are you bonded already?! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to -”

“No! No, I'm not,” Megatron hurriedly corrected without thinking anything of it, then mentally cursed himself to the pit for ruining a perfect way out of the situation. 

“Then what is it?” Orion asked, a hint of irritation in his voice. “Please, tell me! You keep saying I don't know or understand, yet you refuse to explain. What is wrong?”

Again Megatron found himself unable to look away. He started to be genuinely concerned about his lack of control around Orion, and started to question the sensibility of creating circumstances where they were alone together. He had forgotten how persistent and straightforward Orion could be, allowing himself to believe all strength and dominance were strictly part of Optimus and Optimus only. 

“Megatron?” Orion pushed. “You're not acting like yourself.” 

That stirred Megatron, a surge of anger pulling him out of his thoughts. “Even after such a long time apart you think you have me all figured out, don't you?” he asked, a drop of acid in his voice.

Orion's mouth tightened and he averted his gaze. “Sorry. But it's just so... frustrating! I know I don't fully realize the time I've lost. I feel like just a few solar cycles ago we spoke and said good night, but I still... Missed you. I'm so happy to meet you again, but I don't know if... You've missed me. I want to know what is going on.”

Something inside Megatron seemed to break and scatter sharp pieces everywhere, stinging and scratching. For the first time in a long time he was completely lost and didn't know what the best course of action would be. He knew what he wanted, what his spark ached for in a way he hadn't imagined it was capable of, and he also knew what Orion was searching for, but the circumstances were not ideal. There were many unspeakable things he would like to do to Optimus, but taking advantage of him like this wasn't among them. 

Also taking him to berth now would make killing him later that much harder, and considering how he hadn't been able to ram his sword through Orion's helm before he really didn't need to make it any harder by finding out what laying with him would actually be like. 

His processor ached almost as hard as his spark. This wouldn't do. He started to slowly regret this whole stunt. 

“Oh, believe me, my old friend, I have missed you greatly,” Megatron heard his voice saying. “But you just came out of stasis. You've been lost to us for so long, lost to me. And you must be very upset about things you just learned. You are new to war, after all. It would pain me to be a part of a mistake of any kind.”

Orion made a melancholic sound of vague agreement, still looking away. He swayed on his place, a small sad smile playing on his lipplates. “I know it sounds terrible, but I'm glad to hear you say how you've missed me,” he confessed, almost coy. His servo was still on Megatron's arm, still light and still branding it like a white-hot iron. It was an almost physically painful sensation, one Megatron knew he wouldn't be able to forget any time soon. 

“It's not... terrible,” Megatron dared to say, even if hesitantly. Orion rewarded him with a smile and he could have sworn he felt a small part of his spark die. 

“Thank you”, Orion said so sincerely it hurt to hear. “But you shouldn't worry about me. I know what I am doing. I know what I feel, I know what I felt back on Cybertron, ever since we met.”

Megatron felt his processor buzzing, his spark spinning like a trapped little beast, banging on the walls of its chamber and not one coherent thought made it through the tangle of inference. All his processor power seemed to go keeping his expression neutral and his facade in tact, when what he was really feeling was a monstrous mixture of wild happiness, crushing sorrow and gloomy regret about the past that was helplessly gone. It was like everything he had ever felt and after the breakout of the war refused to feel about Orion, about Optimus, flooded his being at once. It crushed him like the pressure of an ocean, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

“But I don't want to push you,” Orion quickly added. “I understand. I would probably feel the same if I were you. But please, can you do one little thing for me, Megatron? Just tell me, am I imagining things or is there really something between us? Do you... have feelings for me?”

Another surge of anger went through Megatron, but this time it was downplayed by the already horrible storm of other emotions and didn't do much. His anger was a powerless little prickle of irritation, a tired voice telling how this was an unfair, awful thing to ask of him. 

Megatron's intake was dry, his vocalizer seemed to glitch and his voice came out even gruffer than it usually was as the words rolled out like they were forced. “I... do have feelings for you, Orion.”  
It hurt like a mouthful of barbed wire. 

And so did Orion's smile, wide and happy and shining just for him. An expression he had never seen on Optimus's face and never would see again. This was torture. 

“You make me happy,” Orion whispered, as if he couldn't produce a sound any louder. “I don't want to push you, but... I do have one request.”

“Anything,” Megatron answered automatically. 

“It's just that this ship is so strange to me and I am a bit confused about this all so... Would you let me recharge next to you, please?”

“Of course,” came out of Megatron's vocalizer. He didn't have the strength to reject Orion any more than he already had, his spark wouldn't have it. He would keep his self-respect and honor even though he'd allow this, but what he wouldn't admit to himself was that he was getting a small amount of comfort out of it as well. 

He probably wouldn't recharge properly in stellar cycles once Orion would no longer be there – and that was bound to happen sooner rather than later – but this one night would be something he'd carry with him for the rest of his existence. 

Both in good and evil, he reflected as they fitted their frames together; he could already feel how Orion's (Optimus's) frame was branding him everywhere they touched.


End file.
